


Sign Language

by emmbright



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmbright/pseuds/emmbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers: Takes place after "all things" but mentions the events of "Per Manum"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sign Language

Outside, it was raining, a sudden April shower soaking unprepared pedestrians as they scurried and slid along the sidewalk outside the restaurant window, newspapers and briefcases held ineffectually above their heads.

Mulder coughed, then winced at the scratchy pain it caused his throat. He hoped the rain would last long enough to lessen the springtime pollen count, at least for a while. He wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation that had ended when Scully fell asleep on his couch the night before. Continue it with words, that is.

They'd communicated quite well without them later that evening, but there were so many things he wanted to tell her, and hear from her in return. Waking in an empty bed to find himself stuffed up and voiceless, sick from allergies, too much plane travel, and too little sleep was a disappointing way to start the day. When he arrived at the office late, red-nosed and sneezing, Scully had taken pity on him and offered to take him out for an early lunch. He had gratefully accepted. Now they found themselves nearly alone in their quiet corner of the restaurant.

Scully watched him eat a spoonful of the chicken noodle soup she'd all but prescribed for him, then turned to gaze out the window. She ran her index finger along the glass, following the path of a particularly fat and lazy raindrop as it meandered down the pane and out of sight.

"I think this was a mistake, Mulder," she murmured, eyes still trained outside.

Mulder's head snapped up at her words. Without thinking, he crushed the unopened plastic packet in his hand, leaving nothing but pulverized Club crackers to add to his soup.

"A mistake?" he rasped. Damn this laryngitis for putting him at such a disadvantage. Of all the inopportune times to be unable to counter Scully's arguments, the morning after had to be the worst. If she tried to tell him that the one thing in his life he was sure about was wrong, he'd shout his frustration to the heavens, no matter what damage it did to his tender vocal chords.

"Scully," he began, and she turned away from the window to look at him. She glanced down at his hand, still clenched around the ill-fated crackers, and smiled apologetically.

"Shh, Mulder. You shouldn't be talking." She took the crushed crackers from him and gave him a fresh packet that came with her salad. "I just meant going out to lunch. If you get drenched, you'll just get sicker."

"Oh." Mulder picked up his spoon and took another sip of his soup, trying to appear nonchalant and no doubt failing miserably. "That would be bad, yeah."

"Very bad," she said, lowering her voice. "I have plans for you, after all, and they'll work out a lot better if you're healthy."

Mulder nearly choked. Scully watched, her expression veering between concern and amusement, as he coughed. He took a sip of ice water, letting it slide down to momentarily soothe his aching throat.

"Actually, after the past few days I'm not even sure there are mistakes, exactly. Just choices to be made and paths to follow."

She shrugged and gave him a chagrined smile, as if she couldn't quite believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

"No such things as mistakes, huh?" Mulder said, his voice, barely a whisper to begin with, fading with every word. "I'll have to remember that one the next time Skinner calls to ream us out."

He sneezed, eyes watering and raw throat protesting. He sniffed and took another sip of water.

Scully raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe 'no mistakes' is the wrong way to put it, but you know what I mean. You can only do the best you can in life. Try to be open, to follow the signs you're given and do what's right."

Mulder shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to respond. Nothing came out, not even the hoarse raspiness he'd just been inflicting on her.

Before she could say 'I told you so', Mulder took her hand in his, turned it over, and wrote on her palm with his index finger.

"T-E-L-L-M-E," he spelled. Scully frowned for a moment, trying to play Helen Keller to his Anne Sullivan. When realization dawned, she nodded and continued.

"There was a time -- no, there were several times over the years -- when I was certain that so many decisions in my life had been monumental errors. Quitting medicine for the FBI. Staying with the Bureau in spite of all the setbacks and frustrations, and all the things I lost along the way."

Mulder released her hand and sat back in his chair, biting his lip. He'd asked her to tell him what she was thinking, but he hadn't counted on hearing that she'd spent years regretting her time with him. Not today, anyway, not after what had happened last night. It stung, but he couldn't blame her. After all, he was the one who'd warned her years ago to get away from him, to go be a doctor, to have a life while there was still a chance.

She took a sip of tea and sighed as if she'd read his thoughts. "I didn't feel that way all the time, Mulder. Not even most of the time. You have to know that. But sometimes I'd worry that I'd ruined my chances. For professional success, yes, but most of all for personal happiness. For that 'normal' life I always thought I'd have some day."

Mulder nodded, trying to appear understanding instead of crushed. It wasn't as if he hadn't known that she occasionally felt that way, but she'd never voiced it to him before, not like this. A cryptic comment about a desk and a life going one step forward and two steps back. A late night speech about getting out of the car. A Saturday morning tussle over tofutti ice cream, and an unheeded tease about going outside to play.

Even when she'd asked him to help her conceive a child, she'd been typically tightlipped about her feelings, only letting him see how much that last chance meant to her for a few brief moments before stoically carrying on as before.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he had been selfish to keep her with him all these years, lonely and constantly in danger. He wanted to spell out his feelings of guilt, but that would take him days. Instead he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm.

"No, Mulder" she said, drawing her hand away. "No apologies. That's what I'm trying -- badly, it seems -- to tell you. That's what I wanted to explain last night. I haven't ruined my chances for a life. This IS my life. This, right now, this moment. All the hours in that dank little basement, every terrifying thing we've ever seen or done, all the losses. They've all led me here, to this."

Mulder looked at her skeptically. How could her feelings have changed so much, so quickly, during just a few days without him? When he'd left her to go to England, she'd been so frustrated. With him, with the work, with everything. The most insecure part of him had almost expected to find a resignation letter on his desk when he returned or, at the very least, something like the dried rose petal she'd left there years before in another of her inscrutable attempts at communication.

"Mulder, I sat next to Daniel and cried, and told him that I thought I might want the things I'd missed out on. The things I should want at this time in my life. A career that makes a difference, someone who cares about me..."

Mulder shook his head and picked up her hand again. "L-O-V-E-S-Y-O-U," he spelled out.

"Yes." Scully glanced down at the table, nervously running her tongue over her lips and smoothing the white tablecloth with her fingers. "Someone who loves me. I finally realized that I do have those things. Maybe not in the conventional, 'normal' sense, but I do have them."

She looked back up at last, meeting his gaze again. "I realized that I was happy with my life, or at least that I could be, if I'd only let myself see what was right in front of me."

He kissed her hand again. This time she let him. So he kissed it again, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Anyway, that's what I wanted to tell you last night," she said, her cheeks flushing. "Before we, well..."

Mulder smirked and began to spell on her palm one more time. "F-"

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, laughing out loud in the goofy, endearing way he'd heard so rarely.

He gave her an innocent look. "Fell asleep!" he mouthed, feigning astonishment at her dirty mind.

Scully laughed again, and for a moment Mulder was almost sorry he'd broken the spell of that quiet moment when she finally told him what was in her heart. He couldn't stay sorry for long, though, not when she was smiling at him like that, with so much affection and happiness in her eyes.

"We really need to get you home to bed," she said, gesturing to the waiter to bring them the check. "There've been plenty of times over the years when I thought things would be easier if you couldn't speak, but I can see now that I was wrong."

Mulder shrugged, giving her a rueful smile.

"Bed, pajamas, orange juice, maybe a few episodes of Law & Order" she sighed happily. "We can play hooky this afternoon for the first time in seven years."

Outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds, and the rain had slowed to barely a drizzle. Passersby were walking more calmly now, slowing to look at the brightly colored peonies planted outside the restaurant window or to peer in at the lunchtime crowd.

Inside, Mulder smiled and listened as Scully talked about everything and nothing, and when they finally stood up to go home he just kept holding her hand.

end

 

Thanks to C. for speedy, helpful beta, and to A. for her kind reception of this little bit of fluff.


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